


Roamingstuck: Forever and Ever

by Momma



Category: Homestuck, MSPA
Genre: (I mentioned angst right? I did didn't I?), (don't answer that), (for healing and stuff), ANGST TRAIN - ALL ABOARD, Alternia, Angst, Babies, Beware, I'M NOT SORRY BUT I DO FEEL BAD, LITERALLY, Marriage, Mpreg, Multi, Rituals, Slavery, Triggers, Trolls, What Was I Thinking, abuse of the sexual and verbal and plain physical kind, all of it works, also blood drinkers, also fluffy reunions, also no actual tags, and I use the dual plumbing here, beating and whipping, broken things, but is it really, cuddling babies in 1st chapter, how did I not see this being an issue?, inability to have children, like hearts and relationships, lots of pain, lots of sad things, m-preg, mentions of rape and non-con situations, minor drugs, not so fluffy reunions, not so much later on, not vampires but rainbow drinkers, roamingstuck, sad feels, they're not humans, triggery shit everywhere, voodoo hoodoo
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-06-08
Updated: 2013-07-25
Packaged: 2017-11-07 07:43:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,789
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/428596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Momma/pseuds/Momma
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After meeting so long ago, one would think they would forget. But sometimes, memories are more real than the right now. </p><p>Though, finding each other again is going to be difficult...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Little Bitty Babies

Chapter 1

\--> BE THE READER... 

And you are. YOU are the reader and the PARTICIPANT and these are your MEMORIES that you seem to have FORGOTTEN or just want to REVIEW. This is fine. Because you may not remember correctly know at the moment. Or remember then at all. That is WHY you are here, isn't it?

 

Well then, let us start...

\--> BE YOUNG CHILD.

Please be specific. Do you have any IDEA how many there ARE?  

\--> Excuse me, I had not thought of that.

Tis fine. Just pick one of the MAIN BRATS. 

\--> BE SNEAKY MAIN BRAT.

You crawl through fronds and cutter grass, being careful of how far you move from your PAPI and the CARAVAN. You would not want him to be in TROUBLE again. Or WORRIED. As to WHY you are crawling through the grass,,,

Well,,,

You are CURIOUS. And young enough to want to look no matter how bad an idea this just MIGHT be. Not even a full THREE SWEEPS OLD and being naughty and too much like the pale PURRBEAST that you had found stuck in a grate, head caught in the hole that had been there since you could remember. You hope your head doesn't get caught in a hole. Or anything at all. You don't want your HORNS BROKE - and your "MASTER" would do it too, just break them rather than trying to free you gently - because that would hurt so much. And DISGRACE your pAPI- even if that word doesn't make sense to you yet, it seems serious - but, mostly, it would hurt.

Your attention to your surroundings is brought painfully back by hitting something that SQUEALED in PAIN almost as much as you. Well, okay, so you squealed and the OTHER just SQUEAKED a little bit. You couldn't help it, though! It HURT so much!

You close your eyes and hold your throbbing head and horns that still vibrated with the force of the blow. A soft touch to your forehead has you peeking up to meet a small face close to your own, a tiny concerned frown - a pout, really - as the other troll boy peered at you. You squeak this time and tip back. You hit your head AGAIN and groan as you grab the second bump and curl slightly on your side. You suddenly feel silly and stupid and so, so much like the tiny GRUB you once were not even all that long ago and,,,Oh, you KNOW that this is a completely NAUGHTY IDEA!

You will be in soooooooo,,,much,,,TROUBLE.

"HEY. hey. MoThErFuCkEr. You OKAY?" 

Your lips tremble and tears gather in your eyes as you look back at him. No. No, you are not okay. And, for once, you say so.

"nO,,,nO, i'M n-nOT OK-kAY,,," 

And then you start to cry.

\--> BE THE BIG TROLL. 

What have I said about being specific? 

\--> Sorry. But, you know, he IS a BIG DAMNED BASTARD...

Tut, tut! Language. 

\--> ...Sorry...

Forgiven. Proceed, please. 

\--> Of course. Eh hem…BECOME THE BIGGEST TROLL. 

You are the KING GRANDHIGHBLOOD with your lil' CHUCKLEFUCK tugging you along as fast as his tiny-as-fuck legs can from the CARAVAN SITE into the TALL GRASS. The pale INDIGO tears falling down his face makes you MoThErFuCkInG FURIOUS and feel a need to get your SuBjUgGuLaTiOn ON.

At the sight of the grubby, tiny crying BRAT with the wide but currently stubby horns set on either side of his (tInY-aS-fUcK) head sitting forlorn and lost in the Tall Grass, you suddenly have far less RAGE than a moment ago. The sight of your cHuCkLeFuCk going to him and cooing like some MoThErFuCkInG CLUCKBEAST to her brood makes you stop in bemused incredulity at the scene. ReAlLy? SeRiOuSlY? hE bRoUgHt YoU oUt HeRe FoR tHiS? a NoN-mEmBeR?

wHaT...tHe...MoThEr...FuCk?

"LiL' cHuCkLeFuCk, WhAt Is AlL tHiS cRaZy ShItE oF mOtHeRfUcKiNg InSaNiTy?"

The warm toothy grin from your tiny cHuCkLeFuCk is enough to let you know he was fine with this OUTSIDER in a way you were unsure and uncomfortable with from him. Though, for once, you caged your dOuBt and did as your cHuCkLeFuCk wanted.

I he wanted a HEALING SESSION, hE wAs GoInG tO gEt A mOtHeRfUcKiNg HeAlInG sEsSiOn... 

\--> WATCH THE HEALING SESSION.

You can't watch the Healing Session because you in a part of the Healing Session. Well kind of. It is you being healed, the small dribbling of blood from earlier crusting up on the back of your head.

You are sitting with an older female troll, her small frame fitting easily within a large padded throne-style chair as you lean against a long spindle leg that is made of rich dark wood. She is soft spoken, face lined with wrinkles and laugh lines nearly hiding her eyes when she closes them. They are bright indigo, her eyes are, and still sharp and bold. She gently pets your short mane of hair with fingertips and claws, fluffing the strip on an otherwise shaved head.

The BIG TROLL that had carried you here left to step into the biggest CARAVAN WAGON, the door short enough that he had to duck a little to get inside, but the roof was far higher than his horns and you wonder how many hoofbeasts it takes to move the structure. He was going to be gone for some time, the older female told you in thick words that you thought sounded strangely musical for the harsh language, smiling gently enough that the sharp edges of her teeth didn't matter as she hums under her breath. It reminds you of the soft thrumming hums your pAPI made when working, thick and warm in honor of your PATRON, the GREAT TAURUS, the protector of all hoofbeasts. That is where your pAPI got your not-name from.

Maybe you should explain. Your Master doesn't like to name his slaves. Not even pAPI had a name, though he asked to be called RUFIO NITRAM after an ancestor that has been deceased for four brownblood generations. He gave you a not-name too. TAVROS in thanks and adoration of Taurus who has been kind to the Nitram bloodlines, who so kindly granted you great power in communing with beasts, most notably hoofbeasts. It would seem the talent was much greater in you than him and pAPI was so PROUD of that. Your Master doesn't know your names, your pAPI or you. You are glad of that.

You miss your pAPI,,,

The Big Troll steps from his wagon, distracting your thoughts at the sight of the large bowl in his even larger hands and a relatively tiny brush compared to his massive hands. He stops beside the matronly troll that still combs her fingers through the strands of your hair, you looking up surprised at his painted face, the white makeup overlaid with indigo, green, brown, and pink to highlight certain areas. It was fascinating to see and even more so when he starts on the older female's face. His tongue is held at the side of his mouth as he gently, tenderly drags the brush down her face.

Paint blossoms from the bristles, returning to the bowl again and again to dab more upon her face. She smiles is amusement at the way the biggest troll you have ever seen pays such delicate attention to the woman and her face paint and chuckles at his troubles of wielding the tiny brush. The language she murmurs is soothing and lyrical, more like song than conversation, tut-tuting the large troll in a way that makes him duck his head with a barely visible indigo flush showing from under his paint and vividly along his ears and neck. His reply is just as musical, though rougher and fluctuating in cadence and speed. It is quite beautiful and you just allow yourself to listen to the almost hypnotic vocals.

Soon, she is finished and before your can tip your head back to see, a small face peeks out at you from behind the Big Troll's leg, grinning in his SKULL MAKEUP and startling you enough to jump. The sudden intense movement makes your already abused head throb and you to whimper. "oWWIE," you cry softly, holding your head again, tears trailing in copper rivers down your face as you bow your head to the pain that thrums like gongs too loud between your ears.

A large hand lifts your head from between your knees, the matronly troll kneeling before you as the Big Troll holds your face in a deceptively giant paw of a hand. In her arms is the bowl of paints, the brush settled in her hand with familiarity. The moment the paint is applied,,,you feel something sliding away. It takes a moment to realize it is the pain being dulled, the weight of it falling from your tiny, bowed shoulders.

Things become hazy quickly, your head very light, as was your body, and laughter and giggles tremble from your lips like song, colors quivering into view from the source of the sound. You stare in awe at the colors painting the sky in bubbles and butterflies and skittering leaves that play joyfully on a non-existent wind. Then you are released, the big hand sliding tenderly from under your chin. Drums thrum soothingly into existence with a string of earthily hued hoofbeasts once all touch leaves you, flutes joining in as fluttering petal blossoms and herb-shaped leaves that crumble into a mist-fine kaleidoscope fly around you, pan pipes twittering like the wingbeasts that were seemingly released in a wild tempo of color, and tambourines dropped beads of intensely colored glass and shiny metallic coins. And the VOICES! The sound of the trolls singing so sweetly, lovingly in chant rolling from their lips in drops of pure indigo and waves of the salted water crashing against cliffs and sweeping calmly, smoothly over sands.

Darkness was coming in quickly, your mind drifting further and further away from the now into a comforting twilight. When sound ceased, you were left laying in a puddle of boneless goo, relaxed in ways you had never thought before. Before the euphoric high faded, small hands carefully plucked you from the ground, thin yet strong arms cuddling you and something about it brought real, true comfort. Peeking an eye open, you saw the old female, her painted face in a soothing and warm expression that you can't name as she hums and occasionally sings the words. A tiny hand grasps the one that hangs over the old female's arms and you spy the little boy, skull face bared in a smile.

And in your half-awake state, you think you smile back.

\--> BE LIL' CHUCKLEFUCK. 

You are said lil' cHuCkLeFuCk, cuddling the GRUB BRAT to your tiny chest as you hum GRAMZEE's qUiEt SONG. His face is in your chest so you can’t see the way he grins, but you feel the movement it on your belly and the smearing of the paint across your skin. Since you do not wear shirts yet, you also feel a lot of heat flowing from his skin like a living flame has been tucked under his skin and molded to his bones. It soothes you and calms your oThErS.  

You love heat. Adore it! Like you loved FIRE and the PIPE SPRITES that curled from your gRaMzEe'S pipe. Only, with this one, he can be touched and held and you feel so warm...

You curl a finger around his horn tip, another around the ribbon on your neck. It is an indigo ribbon, thin but strongly made. Pulling the knot loose, you unwind the lengthy strip eleven times from your neck and then reach under his shirt, winding it four times around his waist. You almost frown. He was really small. Really, REALLY small. You could count his ribs and back buttons just from feel alone. Your oThErS don't like it but you're not old enough to hear what ThEy actually say just yet. You will be in time, but you know he has to leave and you want to stake your claim on your BeSt MoThErFuCkInG bRo now or someone will try and snatch him up.

A yawn breaks through and you realize you skipped your naptime some hours ago. You whine and growl at having your body rebel so against you, fighting to stay awake. You know that when you wake up, the boy you hold will be gone.

"uM, aRE YOU, oK-kAY?" 

It is timid, the words hesitant and slurred as the effects of the paint wear off slowly. The only reason he isn't completely asleep against you is...huh, your GrAmZeE said something about him being hardy and strangely resistant. But that doesn't matter. You have something IMPORTANT to ask.

"WhAt'S yOuR nAmE, bRo?" 

There is a moment of silence before he tightens arms threaded around your waist, snuggling into your tummy like a purrkit. You wait impatiently, knowing you didn't ask a hard question but not getting an answer. You about cry at the seemingly blunt dismissal at friend-building when he whispers against your hip one word,

"tAVROS..."

Silence reigns then, you feeling the drowsy need to lie down and dragging your new bro with you...Tavros...


	2. Assistance

Chapter 2

\--> BE TAVROS.

Actually, he is indisposed. Perhaps you should choose someone close to him?

\--> Uh, sure. BE KARKAT, THEN.

Oh, sure, be the furiously terrified son of a bitch trying to put his so-called protector BACK TOGETHER before their mutual master culled their asses for holding up the caravan. Right.

Fuck you. 

It’s not like you asked him to be so grub-fucking stupid to begin with! WHY WAS HE TRYING TO BE SO DAMNED GOOD TO YOU? YOU ARE SUCH AN ASSHOLE…

But, this is Tavros Nitram. You’ve met his “Papi” and you can say that the red-fleshed meat orb does not fall that far from the manufacturing rough skinned bearer. 

They’re both undeniably, unquestionably, and unusually stupid.

And both have done all they could to keep your ugly ass alive thus far. Even when you feel you don’t deserve it. ESPECIALLY when you feel you don’t deserve it. 

So, here you sit with Tavros, sewing his bloody back flesh-strips back together and dosing him with the few herbs you have left for pain and fever and cleanliness. His Papi is just a few inches behind you, tired and weighted with pregnancy…and unexpected one that had had the Master flying into a blind rage and only Captain Serket and her Ancestor Mindfang taking his anger from the too good, too sweet, too loving brown blood. Now, at almost term, the Master was making expected if unreasonable demands on Tavros in a bid to show his dominance to his slaves. 

What a goob…

But back to the issue of you having to restore the FLAYED FLESH that currently passed itself off as Tavros’ back and upper buttocks. He, Tavros, was supposed to be working with the DRONES – beasts of four-legged persuasion with no real mind for themselves – but had been having issues dealing with the handlers of the Drones. It had been a set up to make the Taurus fail. Indigo, Blue, and Tealbloods handing over the expensive beasts to a “sludgeblood”? You could say with certainty that THAT would never happen. 

And the Master had known that. 

So when the time came to present the Drones, Tavros was empty-handed and in a place to be punished. Again. And again. And again…and AGAIN.

But the worst reason of the continued punishment was that YOU had brought the Drones with you, after LIBERATING them from the handlers for Tavros. In your attempt to finally help the idiot ass, you had caused his punishment to be three times worse. Because, in order to keep you safe, he had taken the blame of the “theft” when caught returning them to the pens, the handlers grabbing him up the instant he showed up. 

To keep you safe…

To keep your blood hidden…

Tears flooded your eyes but you bit them back. It would not do to have him save you like this only to give away your deepest secret by crying RED. Still, the urge is there and so is Rufio, curling an arm around your shoulders and bringing you to his protruding belly, stroking our hair and ears in what comfort he could afford to give. It helps and you pull yourself together to finish your duty. 

You, however, have a horrible fear – one that until recently you didn’t think you could possess – that the gathering this sweep was going to be bad. A strange kind of “good” bad, really, but still horribly and irreparably bad. Rubbing your stomach with brown smeared fingers, you take a breath to steady yourself. 

You’re not done yet.

\--> BE A RELEVANT TROLL.

Well, you can try. 

By trying, you mean you are. It is rude to say that you would do anything but your absolute best. 

“Stop Here, Companion.” 

It is an order from you to that big silly Blue Brute that you are fond of in a Human-Motherly way. It is odd to most Trolls, but something that you do not mind them knowing. Your Dame-Ancestor is of course used to fielding questions of why she is in such opposition to her nature. It is a lie that they – the OTHERS – are content with thinking, that all Trolls are the same instinctively. 

Those Others are wrong, of course.

There it is again. The fresh tantalizing scent of blood, tangy and coppered like a human penny in your mouth, only better. And that worries you. There would have to be much blood to make such a stench. Someone has to be injured. 

“There, Companion.” 

You point to the place of origin, the big Blue Brute brutalizing the vegetation to make way to what you come to find as a small group of lowbloods, slaves all. Well, you BELIEVE them to be slaves. 

“Thank You, Darkleer. I Do Know That You May Wish To Step Back From This Confrontation. If That Is The Case, You Are More Than Welcome To.”

“…It would behoove me to act in a manner of such impropriety, Madame Maryam.” 

Ah, he is so very polite and correct in speech. Even as he all but soaks his cloak at the proximity you put yourself in to the injured and enslaved. It is under better control now, but this is something that he and his Descendant EQUIUS share. Speaking thus of the Descendant, your Dame-Ancestor is coaching him much as she coached Darkleer in the ways of dealing with his issues. 

You are quite glad that is it not YOU being forced to do so. Your Dame-Ancestor, however, is highly intelligent about these things and knew from your hatching that your path would diverge a bit from her own. No matter. 

“I Believe I May Be Of Assistance.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've finally got my bachelors, a job, and a way to pay my bills! It's a glorious day. Now I can spare some time to write. ^^
> 
> Any and all suggestions for this story are welcome, though not all will be used. I have Points A, B, C, and D mapped out, but I need some help filling in the adventures in between once I finish Point A and need to abscond to Point B. -3-

\--> BE THE MAIDEN...

That is not a problem, not really. However you are distracted by the bleeding troll under your hands. Perhaps the narrator could impose their self upon another?

\--> THIS IS GETTING RIDICULOUS. BE THE TROLL THAT'S LOOKING...

That you can do, mothafucka.

\--> WRONG WAGON. NEXT!

You tell the narrator to FuCk OfF, you're trying to catch some shut eye before the performance tonight.

\--> NO NEED TO BE RUDE ABOUT IT.

Well, the motherfucker you're looking for is at the head of the caravan. Maybe looking their next would be better?

\--> AT THIS POINT, WHY NOT? BE THE TROLL THAT IS LOOKING, IN THE WAGON, AT THE HEAD OF THE CARAVAN. IS THAT SPECIFIC ENOUGH?

Fuck yeah. You're the troll that is looking, waiting for the full darkness because while you can walk in the twilight and dawn, you don't like to. You are also at the head of the caravan, sitting at the window as the ground rolls by dully, the same as every sweep and half-sweep when you've been through here. There is a small displacement of air behind you, a faint scent of PAINT and REMOVING SOAP and COTTON. gRaMzEe.

"...you still pine."

It's not the first time she's made this observation. It probably won't be the last. It's why you look, though; there is this EMPTY and GAPING HOLE in your chest. She pats your head like she had when you were a child, combing strong if ancient hands through your wildly curling mane. You have been told it is like feather down it is so soft. You're not sure if you care. In fact, you are not sure you care about a lot right now.

"he is close."

It is whispered and faint and life shattering. When you look at her, she is smiling, face bare in the handful of times you've ever seen it, not so much as changing but deepening the lines, loosening the hardness into faint kindly intentions. That is a lie. Most of the time.

"gRaMzEe?" 

She cups your cheek, kissing your painted brow, never smudging the paint nor denting it, the brush of lips is so light. "patience, boy, your OnE is close." Her fingers pokes your chest, right where your heart thumps painfully hard all of a sudden. It is kind of hard to breathe, you note absently, staring into her vivid eyes. "be easy, little one." 

For all that you tower over this frail, delicate woman, she is by far the more dangerous and stronger of you two. And right now, you remember why. What are you to do when ChUcKlEvOoDoOs are more fearsome for all their benign ability being put to use by someone more than capable to weild them? Why, you bow. 

 

\--> NOW BE THE MAIDEN...

You are, licking dribbles of blood from your fingers and palm, having helped what you believe to be a RED BLOOD heal the brown blood before you, stark white linens hiding vicious stripes and violently bared inner flesh. They will scar, yes, but you helped where you could. It is all you can do for now. 

"Milady?" Ah, the large blue blood, kneeling at your side and holding out a cloth to finish cleaning yourself. A pity the fluid would be wasted, but it is only polite to think of your companions with your...unusual sustenance. 

"Thank You, Horuss," you murmur lowly, not waking the three that slumber in the shelter of a lean-to you had made at the start of full sunrise. With the night gathering around you, your guard, and the small party of slaves, you feel the releasing of the tensions held by the others. You may be able to stand in the full midday sun - enjoy it even - but it does harm your unusual companions as it does all your kind without steps taken. That the slaves were able to stand mid-morning and late afternoon sun with only the mildest of problematic issues, but they were no less glad of cover. 

"I Must Find An Old Aquaintance Of My Ancestor's. These Wounds Are Far Too Grevious For Me To Harness Properly. In Fact, If Not For The Fortitude And Abilites Of The Small One, This Young Bull May Have Met His Demise This Day." 

Horuss was not happy, very swiftly removing the soured features but not before you saw. He knew you too well, as he knew your Ancestor. He was NOT going to be okay with this. 

"I Must Make Haste, Dear Friend," you intone firmly, putting your hand on his forearm. "Be At Peace Because I Will Be Quick And In Good Company." His jaw clenches. You hear a tooth crack and have to supress a wince. "You Know You Must Stay. They Have No Protection." 

It took a moment before he could answer, blood slipping from the corner of his mouth when he speaks. "So be it, Milady," is his terse reply. "As you will it." 

You hate his frustration and foul mood because you caused it. He is a good friend, though odd, and very sweet when he does not even need to be. You are his employer, his master, his trainer. And yet he values you like something precious. You hope this does not damage that tenuous bond. 

"I Will Be Leaving At Sunrise. I Will Be Back By Sunset. You Need Not Fear For Me, Dear Friend. I Must Rest Now In Preperation Of Departure." 

Ah, there it is. That gleam. You stifle a satisfied smile at making him feel better. 

 

\--> TIME SKIP APPARENTLY. WE'RE GOING TO THE NEXT SUNRISE. PROCEED, YOUNG MAIDEN...

You will, of course, proceed, as you had already made up your mind and with a full night's resting behind you, you can tackle the day like a human, though few there are on this world. They tended to be eaten far too often to be as prosperous as they should. A pity. They are more likely to allow you sustenance from them without kicking up a terrible fuss. They are also wonderful pale quadrants, though few would even think it. 

Excuse you, you are getting off task. 

And...aaaah, there they are. Even being about as cuddly as a barbed wire wrapped sack of knives, these were GOOD PEOPLE as you have come to call them after a human phrase. The tall mountain of a being, hair a wild tangle around his face painted starkly white slashed through with violet and candy red, stood high above you with large hands curling deliberately into meaty fists. "Hello, Makara. It Has Been A While." 

The knife to your throat is expected, thinly corded hands of the matriarch holding the bone handled blade and your shoulder. "And You As Well, Madam Junree." 

The elder female cackled as she let go, slipping silent as moon beams along the ground, not even her multiple skirts or beaded and belled shawls making a sound. It would be, normally and frankly, intimidating if you did not intimately know these people. As it is, it is a continual show of prosperity and skill that you do on occasion partake in. There is little that you are unable to do, trained as you are. It is even mildly amusing to have competitions with these wilde folk. It keeps you sharp and all the more deadly than most of the RAINBOW DRINKER kin you seldom discuss or interact with. Lazy, bloodied, sullied creatures, those ones. 

"what has you here, _filia paulo cruentum*_?" 

You sigh. "I Have Encountered One That Is Injured. He Is In Need Of Desperate Medical Aid And I Cannot Do More For Him Than I have. I Ask That You Grant Me A Boon And Heal Him As I Am Unable." 

You already owe them one boon, an old one passed on from your Ancestor that you have yet to fulfill. It is not as if you even know what it is, you were little more than a grub at the time, but it does remain unfulfilled. You hope desperately that they will grant another. A foreboding has already filled you at the thought of the young brown blood not making it beyond the wounding. The sudden and gentle patting on your head has you looking back at their Descendant, the boy unusually tall for his age, abnormally strong and already broad shoulders that were well matched by the enormous hands. In fact, he reminded you of a wolf cub, all slightly silly gangly bits and over-sized paws that would one day be attached to something terribly dangerous with more than milk teeth in its maw. 

"Hello, Young Wolf," you murmur softly, feeling a small smile tip your lips gently. He a GOOD troll, a strangely melancholy and heart broken one, but good. That he of this line of troll makes him special just by blood. 

"wE bE hElPiNg A sWeEt _BeLlA dAmA_ oUt," he assured just as quietly in his still fluctuating voice, leaning into you, an OUTSIDER of the roaming caravan, for mild comfort. While being trained to be an assassin, he was less than thrilled being forced to make blood run from his blade. 

It was often whispered because his HEART was missing. 

"Then We Must Hurry." 

The tiny matriarch bounced into the driver's seat of the lead wagon, grabbing reigns and grinning widely, face painted with a delicate hand to show a candy skull. "then what are we waiting for?" 

You have never felt so relieved in your life. 

 

\--> BE CONCERNED...

Oh you are, you very much are. The sun is rising and your best friend is slowly dying in your lap and the big blue idiot is growling and pacing and your friend's Papi is in labor. 

WHERE THE FUCK IS THAT  _FOU FOU_  OF A RAINBOW DRINKER?!

She'd better hurry up. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Filia paulo cruentum - "little bloody princess" in Latin 
> 
> Bella dama - "Pretty lady" in Spanish
> 
> Fou fou - "crazy fool" in French
> 
>  
> 
> OKAY, the Caravan is going to be speaking Latin and Spanish and other unnamed languages, because I (could) really like the idea of them speaking the languages of other "people" or in this case, different areas of Trolls. KK is such a Troll that knows "French" (or Court Speech) because of who his Ancestor is and where he is from. Tavros and his Papi are from a hotter, shoreline area that speaks mainly Spanish and Italian. What all Trolls know is Common/Trollish/Human/whatever-it-needs-to-be because I am not all that well versed and will be consulting cousins, previous language teachers, and friends for general "pet" names (as that is pretty much all I want to use it for. No sense in making most of my readers unable to understand what I'm putting to paper, right?).

**Author's Note:**

> For a _REALLY LONG_ request on the Homestuck forum on LJ. It's been FOREVER since I got to sit down and work on it. Yay college.
> 
> EDIT: Apparently Gypsystuck is racist. Okay. Changed it to Roamingstuck. Since, ya know, they (the story characters) roam.   
> (shut up, I can't label anything...I'm really quite terrible at it -_-')


End file.
